


Wrath and Distrust, Hardship and Yearning.

by Azeran



Series: AU-ThorxJotun!Loki [4]
Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, And Loki is a stubborn little shit, Jotun, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Thor is dumb, but pretty damn smart too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azeran/pseuds/Azeran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the eyes of Asgard, he had been the perfect prince. He doted upon his intended, laying gifts of gems and gold at his feet while in the same breath praising his exotic beauty. But what good were these acts when he’d turned and made light of what real talents Loki possessed? Here in his grasp was a dark eyed spitfire with more power and ruthless cunning than any other warrior Thor knew. He had the intelligence of a scholar, the poise of a queen, all beneath the veneer of foreign cobalt flesh and glossy hair. He was so beautiful, yet he’d done nothing to truly appreciate him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrath and Distrust, Hardship and Yearning.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own Thor or Loki. They belong to Marvel, and Norse mythology. Also, this can be considered a tie in to Stranger Beneath the Moonlight, but you don't need to read that to get this story. I recommend it, 'cause every author loves having people read their stuff, but yeah! Unnecessary.

Thor had grievously underestimated him, when he assumed that Loki's magic was but a meager defense. Weak, womanly talents, their use dismissible only due to his upbringing in a foreign land, and therefore exposed to alternative teachings and trainings. In Asgard, the use of seidr was a talent performed expressly by the womenfolk. No man, no warrior, would ever dream of subjecting himself to ridicule by mastering such coy trickery. Yet his consort to be didn’t seem to grasp this realm wide understanding, nor had he cared, when Thor had so carefully explained that those who practiced sorcery were of the majority women. Men kept to the sphere of blades and shield, as was expected of them. Yet in Loki’s eyes, his magic was a greater weapon than bow or blade, though he made use of the latter quite ruthlessly too. When words became useless as a tactic, the Jotun claimed his sorcery sufficient defense. 

Had he been wise, the thunderer would’ve taken his words with caution, and shrewd acknowledgment. He didn’t, which led to his gawking like the oaf Loki always lightheartedly claimed him to be, his fears dammed by stunned disbelief, and grueling respect. Standing on the outskirts of the warrior’s arena, a practice hammer held loose in his mighty fist, Thor watched in blatant awe as Fandral, accomplished swordsman and well known practitioner of the arts of seduction, was thrown off his feet by a jewel green blast of light that rippled and shone like living fog. He hit the dirt hard, and with a muted groan, leaving a bored looking Jotun to stand triumphantly over him with his fingers splayed apart, emerald glinting at their tips. Thor wavered, unsure what exactly he’d just seen. Was this the power of magic? Did Loki alone possess these abilities? He must have learned them in Jotunheim, though the thunderer had difficulty believing that a ferocious race like the Jotnar would encourage any talents lying beyond the mastery of ice and unflinching cold. Surely Loki was a special case though. With his size, he undoubtedly couldn’t lift a spear or sword. Seidr was the only defense left to him. But to be this powerful….Thor could hardly grant sorcery such prestige. Perhaps it was but beginner’s luck?

Loki didn’t share his questionings, for he was busy securing his victory. Lowering to one knee, he placed a glowing fingertip on Fandral’s throat, excess trails of green winding up his arm. “Never underestimate a foe.” He scolded. “Perhaps if you spent less time attempting to seduce your opponent, you might actually win a bout.” His lips quirked at the shocked expression on the blonde’s face, as did Thor’s, and then Loki cordially helped the Asgardian to his feet, chuckling softly. “Nonetheless, you’re quite talented with your sword. I imagine it’s made you many a friend, and enemy.”

Good natured conversation, but Thor didn’t care for the appreciative look in his comrade’s eyes when his princeling left him and sauntered away to peruse the weapon’s rack for new armament, azure fingers tracing over several gilded blades. It was challenging to ignore Loki’s physical appeal, from the exotic curl of his black horns, gleaming like ebony, all the way down to limber calves, garbed only in strange metal sheathes to protect them from injury. It was armor from Jotunheim, he presumed. Well chosen too. The metal clung defensively to lithe muscles and curves, the color reminding Thor of the moon, hidden behind thundering clouds. More of the strange material protected Loki’s wrists, his elegant throat. From here, he noted silvery runes etched into the vambraces. What their purpose was, he didn’t know. Magic had never been his to embrace, its dark mysteries as exotic to him as the one who’d brandished them to defeat his friend. A sight, he fondly reminded himself, that wouldn’t be forgotten anytime soon. It wasn’t often that Fandral was beaten, lest it was by the thunderer himself. 

However, much as these thoughts amused him, he wasn’t pleased with how his presence had gone unnoticed. His friend still rested on the dirt, laughing and gauging his injuries, but Loki didn’t appear to have any inclination that he was there. Thor sought to rectify this, immediately. “Loki!” Lumbering across the arena to the Jotun’s side, Thor affectionately clasped his nape and turned him about to beam down at his lovely visage. Up close, he could see the scuffs of duels well fought, and smudged a speck of dirt with his thumb down a narrow cheek. “That was a most gallant performance. You bested Fandral with nary a wave of your hand, and a few sharp words! Well done, Loki. I never knew seidr could be used for more than the fulfillment of womanly hobbies.” 

They were words intended to compliment, for Thor had been surprised with Loki’s prowess, not to mention subsequent defeat of Fandral, his own close companion at arms. Whether or not Loki interpreted them as such….was questionable. The hard glitter in his eyes reminisced of a warrior’s bloodlust, but contained. And far, far deadlier. “Did you not? I can scarcely imagine how the knowledge might have escaped your scrutiny. You’re always so attentive.” Loki brushed his hand away and picked up a dagger, testing the weight of the hilt. The obvious shun left Thor confused, and he frowned. Did Loki not understand he was admiring his skill?

“Have you misunderstood my praise? I meant only to compliment you. You wield magic like none I’ve ever seen before.” Uncaring of the sharp look that was fixed upon him, he touched where the flesh of Loki’s throat was slightly rigid, his blood lines bare between the gaps in his armor. Thor knew not what precisely they meant, but for their acting as ties to display the Jotun as Laufey’s son. To him, they were as beautiful as the body they decorated, and he who used it. If only Loki would look upon him in favor, for it suited his lovely features far more than anger, or the wicked, bemused smile he often wore. “Loki. Discard this animosity towards me. It is undeserved, and I’d have it gone before your next bout. Your beauty should be spoiled only by dirt and blood.” If it must be at all, Thor thought with a chuckle. 

“I do not behave at your leisure, Odinson. You reap what you sow. And how can you profess to have seen no talents such as mine, dare I ask? Do you make practice of watching those with a mastery of seidr showcase their proficiency?” Loki caressed the blade in hand, then flipped it towards Thor in a flash of silver and gold, his smile just as cutting as the polished edge. “Tell me. You must know every nuance of your fierce culture. Exactly how many capable practitioners are there who use magic within this realm?” 

Having the dagger pointed at him was a useless threat, but Loki’s inquiries made him start. “….It’s difficult to say,” Thor murmured. “Sorcery is rarely seen on the battlefield, Loki. It is not the way of Asgard. You know this. I have told you-” 

“Yes, I remember.” The dangerous quality to his eyes didn’t diminish in the slightest. It grew stronger, the scarlet vivid as blood shed on the ground, glistening and shadowed with questions Thor realized Loki already knew the answers to, or at the very least suspected. “Only your women use seidr, and they are confined to hearth and home.” Loki smirked. “Save for Lady Sif, of course. But she wields a blade, so I suppose her feminine attributes are forgiven, yes?” He held his weapon in a steadfast grip, thumb pressing into one of the intricate metal knots decorating its hilt. Thor didn’t like admitting it to himself, but he felt the smallest twinge of concern when the dagger’s point came within a hair’s breath of his throat, only just pricking the skin. The pain was fleeting. The darkness in Loki’s eyes was not. 

“Loki…….I understand. You are unhappy with how things are done, and our ways are still very strange to you. You are accustomed to a different manner of living. I’ve no doubt Laufey encouraged your magic to protect you, with your smaller stature leaving you susceptible to danger,” he took the prince’s hand and squeezed gently, taking no notice of how Loki’s cold fingers were brittle as ice, “but there is nothing to fear, now. Asgard will be your safe haven.” Lifting the digits to his lips, Thor kissed them and smiled. Ever the ignorant, well meaning oaf. “I will protect you. Your seidr need not act as your blade and shield any longer.” 

The prince stared at him, the very fires of Muspelheim blazing within his eyes. He might have recognized the danger sooner, were he not distracted by the way Loki’s mouth turned up with such vehemence, both icy and electrifying in its bittersweet intensity. “Thor….” he spoke softly, to the point where Thor had to crane his head to hear him. It was a mistake in the making, but the thunderer didn’t realize that until it was too late. “You wish to protect me?” A strong tug ripped the hand from his grasp, leaving him floundering, gawking once again at the fuming Jotun. “Then protect me from the madness spouting from your foul lips! How dare you, Odinson? Do you not consider your words before speaking? Or are you so ignorant that you assume all will concur with your deluded vision, simply because you are to be future king? Because I will not! Prince or not, you are a fool!” 

The path of vengeance was his to tread as Loki stormed away, jagged spires of ice jutting from the ground after his heels. Thor watched, firstly confused, and then angered; he would walk away from him, just like that? “You dare call me a fool? I said nothing that wasn’t true!” Loki’s stride never wavered, or even slowed. He growled and stomped after the tempestuous Jotun with the stench of ozone infecting the air, thunder crackling deep in the summer clouds. Loki thought to yell at him, claim his intentions foul? He was only thinking of his well being! It was his place, as future king and Loki’s husband, and he would see him protected from any harm. No matter what the princeling believed, seidr could not be an adequate defense! “Loki, stop! You cannot run from this!” 

“You think I mean to run?” Spiteful laughter filled his ears, tainted with the misery wrought from unhealed wounds. The sound of it made Thor cringe through his rage, steps faltering as he rounded a frozen needle and saw his intended approaching the weapon rack, fingertips and palms tainted by green. “You arrogant, nonsensical brute. How cowardly you must think me, to suggest such a thing.” Looking over his shoulder at him, Loki sneered. “But of course I am! A man who dares to practice women’s arts? Ah, forgive me. Not even a man! A monster, wild as the beasts you so love to hunt and slaughter.” He glared at Thor. It was the most bone chilling expression he’d ever seen, and smothered the seething fury in his chest. 

“That is not what I meant! Why do you twist my words?” Loki turned his dagger upon him as he drew near, Thor seeking to placate the young Jotun. Already he felt guilty for what he’d said. Why had this all turned so ugly? He truly didn’t mean to hurt Loki’s feelings, incurring his wrath and rejection. That was the last thing he’d ever desire! There were simply things the prince didn’t understand, like the use of his seidr, which Thor accepted. They were of different cultures, and it was to be expected. All he wanted to do was help Loki settle into his life here, and be at ease with him, and the roles they would both one day step into. “I would never assume you a coward! Loki, hear me. You must know I couldn’t-”

“I must know? Now who is putting words into whose mouth?” Venom poisoned every one he spoke, dripping from Loki’s silvered tongue and igniting the magic around his hands into a vicious frenzy. Thor was both in awe of the display, and subconsciously fearful. Those fears nicked at him now with their needle sharp teeth, harsher than any wound he’d suffered in sport or battle. “Your presumptions are as overbearing as your ego, Odinson. What am I supposed to know, hm? That you would never harm me? That you have only my best interests at heart?” Loki cut him to the core with his mockery. “Pretty sentiments, but they reek with deprication. You seek to take away that which I have always known! My very life force! What next? Shall I have the All-Father enchant my skin to a proper Aesir form, that I might better appeal to the public eye and spare you the shame of a Jotun bride?” 

Horror filled his heart. Was this what Loki believed he wanted? “I have never felt ashamed of you! Loki, none of this is what I want. You need never hide who you truly are, and any who say differently speak fallacy!” He reached for the Jotun and sought to take back the blade, then nestle him into the cradle of his arms. But within an inch of his skin the air bristled with ice, stinging his fingertips enough to bruise the flesh with purple and blue. Thor recoiled, sadness blooming in his eyes. How could he make Loki understand? This isn’t what he wanted. He’d certainly never meant to hurt him. “I only inspire to protect you, as you deserve.” He whispered, the crackle of electricity and magic thick in the air. “Why can you not rely on me for this? Do your trust your sorcery more than I?” 

The smile he received in exchange for his pleas was rifled with agony, and emotions scorned. “Protection is the brother of trust, Odinson. And I cannot trust any man who would lay claim to me like a trophy, then mock my capabilities in the same breath.” Glancing to the dagger he held in hand, Loki threw it to the ground. “No more of this. You think my seidr is but womanly glamour, undeserving the title weapon? That without your cape to cower beneath, I cannot defend myself against threat and foe? For surely a coward is no better than a maiden, and must be protected and remain at his hearth until summoned for!” His scorn gave way to ruthless ambition, and he gestured to the arena around them with hands aglow. “No. If we are to remain in this engagement, I’ll not have you thinking this lowly of me. Let us fight! I will prove to you what I am capable of.” Loki hissed. “Never again will you think of seidr as a woman’s defense.”

Thor immediately thought to argue. That Loki had bested Fandral was impressive, but not cause enough for him to think his talents enough to protect him. Fandral was quick with his tongue, and his sword, but he resided in a league beneath Thor’s own. As was expected of him, the thunderer made a far greater foe, with the strength and power to take down any opponent. Womanly tricks surely would not be a match against him. However, he saw the ramifications of this argument before a single syllable passed his lips. His refusal would only encourage Loki’s beliefs that he found him inadequate. Lies encouraged by the small Jotun and his self deceit, but they were no less real in his eyes. Thor would not have his future consort think he was ashamed of him. He’d just have to be careful, and spare Loki whatever embarrassment he could. 

“As you wish it. But I will not harm you, Loki. You have my word.” Readying his fists, Thor settled into an appropriate stance as he watched his intended shift, ice cascading down his thighs and up his wrists, coating his armor in a glistening layer of silver. What made him wary was the spider tendrils of veridean webbing across their surface, the same venomous green as Loki’s eyes. His seidr? “Loki….what are you doing?” 

He had no warning. No time to question the sudden vanishing of taut limbs and dark hair, until he was face to face with them again, and a snarling mouthful of teeth. Thor reeled backwards, dodging the ice blue hand that shot towards his face. Loki was but a blur, and he had little time to react, only just managing to grab it and toss the limb to the side before pointed nails sank into his eyes. It was a poorly calculated move on his part. He should have suspected. Every Jotun had the ability to drop their core temperature to a degree that their flesh became dangerous to the touch, and Thor remembered this a split second after his fingers were agonized and stained a vicious shade of blue. He roared in pain, blindly grasping at the weave of his intended’s hair when it darted past his left. “Loki! You claim seidr as your shield, yet you attack me thusly?” 

Loki dodged him with the grace of a snake, so fast there appeared not one but…two? There were two! No, three! They all circled him and wielded clouds of sparkling chartreuse like writhing coils in their palms, twin veins aglow within their icy holds. Thor stared. Is this what he could do? Seidr made this possible? “Why should I not? I use what abilities are given to me, no matter that they displease you. And I had thought you would know better than to touch a Jotun when it is unwanted.” Lashing out with venom in his eyes, Loki struck the distracted Thor across the face and near sent him reeling. It took all the strength he owned not to grab the princeling by his throat and pin him to the ground, but with another frigid blow to his stomach a fissure cracked his patience wide open. He snarled his fury, catching a fistful of inky tresses and ripping them from their braid, forcefully dragging what he thought to be the real Loki forward. But it was only a duplicate, turning intangible and misting through his skin as the others attacked, cold hands and nails ripping into him over and over again. Each new wound brought a disturbing numbness to his flesh. Thor persevered though, wildly grabbing at the clones. 

“More meaningless chatter! My touch should not be unwanted! I have done nothing to earn this treatment!” He tried to follow their movements and catch whom he thought to be the real one again as he darted past, but nothing he did stopped the prince from laughing and breaking free. He was no more than a ghost, and a vengeful one at that. 

“What’s wrong? I thought my womanly talents were no means of defense! Mine should be an easy conquest for you.” Viciously, the Loki he could only presume to be real grabbed him from the side and sank his nails into his scalp. “Is that not so? Conquer me, Thor. See me beaten, so that you may prove your prowess as your are wont to do.” 

The thunderer growled his displeasure. “I mean not to conquer you! You are the one who sought this battle, Loki, not I! If you would but cease this madness, we could reconcile.” Thor pretended there was no plead to his voice, but it went ignored anyway, and from behind he felt his head ripped back and the brush of frozen lips across his nape. Ice seemed to spill from the contact point, connecting to the painful chill that had already invaded his wrist and forearm, and those other minute wounds scattered across his form. Groaning, he swung his arm back to land what he aimed to be a deciding blow to a Loki’s brow, but it was sluggish. Trembling. Surprised, he tried to clench his fingers and found them weak, refusing to cooperate. The cobalt had spread to his biceps, up his throat, and he watched in stunned amazement as a frail but inflexible sprinkle of diamond and jade dotted his skin. It was the very same green pulsing in Loki’s vambraces and leg armor, giving him aide. Which meant… “This is sorcery….” 

“Indeed.” All three Jotun’s walked before him. With a ripple of the air three became two, then one again, and he reached out to touch his jaw. Thor felt it, but could barely move. Was this his scheme all along then? “It is as you said. Sorcery, and my own frost. Do you not feel them seeping into your skin?” Loki’s smile was a distorted reflection, in which Thor saw his anguish turned to monstrous rage. The prince was from Jotunheim’s bosom, yet he was a creature of fire, and his anger was not to be trifled with. He had realized that too late. “A few fleeting touches were enough to take you down. You, the mighty Thor, bested by magic.” Loki smirked. “So tell me. What have I to fear from a foe that is incapacitated?” 

Loki thought him bested then? Not yet. It was impossible. Thor tested the cold saturating his limbs, and though the blue had not completely covered him like it did the Jotnar, it was unyielding. As was the ice he realized to be made stronger by Loki’s seidr. He had found the cleverest way to use it, protecting his own limbs while turning Thor’s useless. “This is a clever trick,” he rumbled. One he could respect. Were these the means with which Loki fought, then he could see why they held such appeal. And why he’d be unwilling to give them up. They had their uses, more so than any sorcery he’d glimpsed the womenfolk working with. 

“It is one of my favorite.” Loki came forth and walked around him, crimson irises staring him down. “If not for my stature, my realm would have seen me forgo my magic for the frost. Now, here, you wish me to give up that which has always made me strong, simply because of some fool minded misconceptions your arrogant race holds.” The princeling shook his head. “No matter where I go, I am made the outcast. It is a cruel fate, but never once has it swayed my opinion, and I won’t change that now. I won’t give up my seidr. Not to protect your pathetic, misogynistic need to cast me into the role as the dainty wench you must protect. Your pride means little to me, and I will not cease my sorcery because it embarrasses you.” Cold wrath turned his sight to ruby glass, through which Thor might see the tidal waves bashing against its surface, angry and violent. “Give up this pointless dream, Thor.”

A few flakes of frost crept over his cheek, and he itched to brush them away. Or perhaps shake some sense into his beloved. “You are no wench, but my intended. The future Queen of Asgard. It is my duty to protect you, and cherish you. I want nothing more than to do both, yet you balk from me, claiming magic your only shield. I am not happy with this, but it has naught to do with my people’s predilections.” 

“Does it not?” 

“No!” Thunder crackled over their heads. Trapped as he was, Thor still held dominion over the skies, though Mjolnir was not at his side. Loki followed his eyes to the heavens, and a splash of rain hit his brow, trailing down the markings on his brow. The sight was a beautiful one. He swallowed down the words of praise, puffing a small breath of air through his lips to catch the Jotun’s attention. “…..That seidr is a woman’s skill and you use it still is not what disconcerts me, Loki. I…..must concede to the idea that yours is most powerful, and could act as your blade with unsettling ease. You’ve made your point. My body proves this. Your sorcery is capable, and a valiant shield to be held. Yet why must it now? You have mentioned Jotunheim. I understand. Your realm is one of cold and death, and you, small that you are, had to rely on what talents were at your disposal. This is fine! I do not begrudge you your past.” Wishing not for another tempest to form above their heads, Thor pushed his arrogant nature to the side and appealed to the prince who watched him so closely now, suspicious. “I acknowledge too that you do not yet feel comfortable here. Asgard is unsettling to you, and I am no stranger to the threats made against your being. There are many who find my taking a Jotun to bride distasteful-”

“You seek to spare me insult. Don’t bother. I know very well that most of this cursed realm thinks ill of me. Many would even wish me dead.” Ignoring the aching expression on his face, Loki scoffed. “But do go on. I’m so eager to hear your reasonings for why I should give up my only means to protect myself against these threats. Oh, but wait! You already told me. Because you, my brave and talented warrior, wish to play hero and keep me safe from all these monsters. The mere fact that seidr is a woman’s skill and unfit for your future Queen-” how he stressed the word, snarling it with distaste, “is but a footnote in the grand design within your tiny brain. Is that not the synopsis?” 

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. This was not an issue he could tackle with force. Loki would rebel, and he was already trapped by the magical ice keeping his limbs at bay. He feared what more the young Jotun might do. “You would make my ambitions a wrong doing. I do not see them this way. There is no crime in wanting to protect that which you hold close. And I cherish you, Loki. I do,” Thor pressed, when Loki sneered and turned away. Fist clenching, he strained against his trappings, needing to drag Loki to him again. “You pretend I don’t, but we both know the truth.” 

“I know nothing of the sort, save that you are an imposing, uncompromising brute!” Yet there it was. A flicker of doubt, so fast it was almost missed. But Thor had a keen eye, and he saw it in the way Loki’s fingers twitched and curled at his side. 

“You are a talented liar, Loki, but in this you cannot deceive me.” Thor’s arm lifted an inch, and he dragged his foot a step forward. The spell was weakening. He’d little doubt it had something to do with the princeling’s distraction. “I care for you. It is not love. No, I speak truth. I don’t love you. That is a bond we shall forge with time,” or so he hoped. “But I care deeply for you, and your wellbeing. I want to keep you from all harm, and drive away those things that cause you grief.” More and more the spell cracked at its seams. Thor was able to reach out and touch Loki’s cheek, seeing not surprise, but stubborn resolve in the glacial planes. “You will be mine. Our engagement ensures this, but you still say yours is the only defense you have. All you can trust.” There again. The Jotun grimaced and closed his eyes, as if protecting himself from Thor’s words. Softly, Thor tilted his face up as the remainder of ice and sorcery wept from his limbs, leaving them both on the spire bedecked arena, Loki’s face cusped in his palms. “Loki.” 

“Leave me be.” Spat through his teeth, he refused to open his eyes. So be it. Thor had their beauty immortalized in his memory, and understood well the pain that would no doubt be shining in their bottomless crimson. 

“I cannot. You must hear me out.” Thor caressed a lock of hair behind his ear, brushing the glossy length of one of Loki’s horns. An intimate gesture, and he saw it pained him. “I was wrong to mock your talents, and for that you have my shame as penance. Never again will I say such things to you. I know not if those others who practice seidr have the same skills as you, but yours are formidable. Anyone would feel proud, were they to face you in battle. You are a worthy opponent. A worthy warrior,” he tipped Loki’s face higher and pressed a kiss to the three lines marking his cool brow. The prince was impassive, resembling the carved spires and ice of his homeworld. He was stunning. “Loki. I’ll not ask you to change who you are. Keep your skin, your seidr. There’s not a thing about you I would change, but for your stubborn refusals to believe in me.” Thor sighed. “To trust me, which you claim to not.” 

The mask shifted, allowing a hint of animosity to show through. “Trust is earned, Odinson.” And he had done little to earn it. Unspoken, yet understood. It was one thing the thunderer couldn’t deny. Loki’s earlier words came back to him. ‘I cannot trust any man who would lay claim to me like a trophy, then mock my capabilities in the same breath.’ Grimacing, he pushed his brow to Loki’s and held a hand to his neck, fingering the sigils scribed across the metal armor. In the eyes of Asgard, he had been the perfect prince. He doted upon his intended, laying gifts of gems and gold at his feet while in the same breath praising his exotic beauty. But what good were these acts when he’d turned and made light of what real talents Loki possessed? Here in his grasp was a dark eyed spitfire with more power and ruthless cunning than any other warrior Thor knew. He had the intelligence of a scholar, the poise of a queen, all beneath the veneer of foreign cobalt flesh and glossy hair. He was so beautiful, yet he’d done nothing to truly appreciate him. Nor had he behaved in a manner remotely appropriate for what rested between them. It wasn’t surprising that Loki didn’t trust him. How could he? Thor had mocked all he held dear. Worse, he’d demanded conformity to a role that could never be his, and now, here, he saw the error in his ways. 

“…..I have been the fool. You don’t deserve this.” Releasing him, Thor bent down on his knees and grasped a slender hand in his own, furtively pressing the knuckles to his lips. “I will do all in my power to prove to you I am worthy of trust. That you can keep faith with me, though it isn’t necessary. You are capable of protecting yourself. My only hope is that one day, you may look upon me with the same favor that I feel for you, and allow me the privilege of offering my sword and shield as your defense.” He looked up to the younger prince and smiled tightly, rubbing his inner wrist. “Not because you need them. But because you believe in me, and those promises I’ve made. It would be my honor to keep them, when and if you wish it.” Waiting a moment to let his words resonate, Thor carried on. “You are no trophy. You are my future Queen. My bride, defending himself behind silvered words and a icy shield. In you, I see the future, Loki, and it is bright. If you will allow me to share it with you, then it will be brighter still.”

Loki looked down upon him silently. It was but a moment before his nimble tongue was back in the works though, its blade softened to a dull edge. “The term bride seems mildly inappropriate. That I am capable of carrying your spawn does not make me a woman.” Testing the grip Thor kept on his fingers, he nudged them forth and felt the scruff below his bottom lip. “If you must address me as that, then at least soften the blow. Call me your shield-bride. It seems the least you can do, after all the trouble you’ve given me thus far. For which you aren’t yet forgiven,” the warning came with a light jesting tone, but Thor knew it wasn’t so. He wasn’t forgiven. Not yet. 

“If protection comes with trust, then so does forgiveness. I will fight to earn all three from you.”

“See that you do. Otherwise, I fear what stupidity I’ll be exposed to next.” Pulling his hand free with a firm tug, the Jotun retrieved the dagger he’d earlier cast aside and tucked it into the leather belt cinched around his waist, keeping his loincloth in place. “I don’t intend to linger here any longer. I require food, then a bath. Your touch has left me soiled, and reeking of sweat.” 

A dismissal, plain and simple. Thor respectfully didn’t make any moves to approach him as Loki walked from the arena, feeling lighter of spirit, yet heavy with the burden he now carried on his shoulders. But ht was a weight he’d proudly suffer, for making amends to his betrothed was his forth most priority now. He’d insulted him, and though Thor had apologized, it did not change what was. Loki didn’t trust him, or want his protecting. If ever he wanted things to change, he’d have to prove his worth, and make the princeling see he need not only rely on himself. There were surely many ways he could do this. Gifts, treasures. Sentiments expressing his pride in Loki’s capabilities. Each opportunity Thor would grasp with both hands, and strive to do his very best. 

It would be a challenge. Loki was difficult to please, and he felt slighted. No doubt he’d make things especially difficult for the thunder god. But it was as he deserved, and would make the reward all the sweeter. When his future queen could look to him not only as companion and friend, but one worthy of trust, Thor could consider himself successful. Till then, he’d woo the Jotun over, show that he was not the oaf and uncompromising fool Loki believed him to be. “Have patience with me. One day, I will triumph.” Thor smiled, watching his bride….nay, his shield-bride, walk towards the palace. As strong as his sorcery and resolution, so too was his own determination. One day, and hopefully soon, Loki would trust him. He’d see to it.


End file.
